starting oveur

previously published by me elsewhere:

Surely I exaggerate, but I feel as though everyone around me is having a career crisis, as if it's the epidemic of the day.

Now I'm no foreigner to such an event over the years, being what I am. Depending heavily upon my strength of self-esteem I have called myself the likes of that all-encompassing artist, the gorgeously noncommittal filmmaker, the simplistic misunderstood writer, as well as opposite of "this" (i.e. this day job isn't really what I am).

And all of this has been on the chopping block at one time or another. However I have completely no idea what I would have given it all up for, since without my aspirations I don't really know who I am.

But as suspect as this following of dreams really is, not everyone has that to turn to in times of inner-crisis. Some people's job-related dreams don't involve long periods of unemployment. Image that!

There are some people who believe in the concrete, and don't let everything they choose to do merely satisfy whims of one's ego. There are realistic hopes and dreams that relate to a work environment fulfilling one's ideals, whether it's how it affects society, the structure of management, or the intelligence and compatibility of one's co-workers. Like in any relationship, if you can't find what's important to your core you're bound to go elsewhere.

The new is interesting. The new is different. There's something about, as they say, the new and improved and clearing the proverbial slate that is both invigorating and terrifying.

When I was in middle school, and even high school, I used to wish I could move away. I longed to go somewhere no one knew me so I could make a better, improved first impression on everyone. I felt so ill-placed in my own little world that practically becoming somebody else would make it all better. I suppose I am simply my own cross to bear, regardless how unnatural this notably religious metaphor lays upon my shoulders.

I guess it was like after college, when I moved back to the Orlando area. Besides being where I essentially grew up, it had been the hot spot for my sordid early college adventures, so to speak. Obviously it would offer more than the quiet, little Gainesville. Clearly there was a good reason to return.

Well, yes and no.

Three years later and it was right back to Gainesville, which was far more a daunting change than Orlando for me. It felt like running back to the simple life from a failure in the "big city", and even worse was moving there simultaneously with my sister's family as they sought a place to put down roots. Roots! That's what happens when you've seen the world, and it's time to settle down.

Around that time, I had chatted with a close family friend about the transition back to the old, the overly familiar, and she quoted the old saying about entering the same river twice (Heraclitus, by the way).

I have a friend who went north a few years ago, and has been seriously considering returning "home" to Florida. Its human nature, or at least harshly American to see the failure, the animal with its tail between it legs, in such retrograde.

Over the weekend I had a conversation with a friend, which included our seemingly outlandish thoughts of relocating to Canada. Then someone at a party was talking about giving away all of their possessions and living off the land, which I suppose would be some sort of faux-Buddhist cleansing ritual.

Wouldn't it just figure that I watch Michael Moore's new film "Sicko" yesterday? Fantastic stuff, but besides the obvious intentions of the film, it left me feeling like moving out of the country wouldn't be such a bad idea. Canada, sure. England, sure. France, what the hell. Add in those requisite feelings of sandpaper rubbing across vital organs that July fourth had on me this year and that blind patriotism always offers. It really felt like the country was celebrating the birth of someone who had long since died, which I tell you is no reason for fireworks.

Maybe it's not only career crises that plague many around me these days. Maybe it's a general swelling of transitional behavior that I feel receptive towards. An old friend considers coming home. A new friend moves to art school. A close friend works through their career options. Another 'finds herself' halfway across the planet, away from all that is familiar.

These are not really new realizations for me. I know the only constant is change, and all of that blah-blah-blah, but for me sometimes walking through life feels like drudging through wet cement. If you stop for too long, you're stuck.